Bitter
by fliff
Summary: Arthur has been hiding the bruises from Alfred for the last year, but the things Scot dose have become more violent. USUK, Abusive!Scotland, Human names used, AU. On hiatus until further notice, sorry.
1. Bruised

**Author's notes:**

**Warning! **The title of this story is subject to change in the future if I find a more fitting title.

**This story contains Abuse and potential self-harm. **

Woot it's done! Well at least chapter one is.

So I promised you that there would be another story that followed _Red Bracelets._ This (as stated) takes place in the same AU as my last long fan fic _Red Bracelets_. I intend to write this fic so it can be read separately from the other fic. So don't worry you don't have to read the other first, but it is a PruCan story if you're interested. This one is a USUK fic.

**I don't own Hetalia it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

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><p><strong>Edit: <strong>So after leaving this story on hiatus for six months it was odd and entertaining to read it again.

There have been some edits done to the story.

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><p><strong>Chapter one<strong>

Bruises

The dream played out in a shade of sepia.

"Hay! You're the new kid right?" The enthusiastic blond asked Arthur, "I'm Alfred F. Jones!" He offered out his hand before the other boy could answer.

"Arthur Kirkland, now if you don't mind would you please bugger off?" The boy replied harshly. Arthur had found a place under a tree on the playground with a book in hand to read. He'd hoped he was inconspicuous enough that the other children would leave him alone, but it would seem he wasn't that fortunate.

"You talk funny!" Alfred said laughing as he sat down cross lagged in the mulch in front of the other boy.

"What? You're the one who has the strange manner of speaking!" Arthur retorted, glaring at him.

"Oh well!" Alfred said still laughing. "Let's be friends, 'kay?" he told him offering out his hand again. Arthur timidly took it.

A repetitive beeping over took all other sound and the seen began to fade.

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><p>Arthur opened his eyes to the sound of his alarm clock blaring. Blinking away the dream he sat up slowly and turned off the alarm. He ached from the events of the day before and yet another restless night's sleep that had been plagued with dreams of happier times in his life. The dreams only made him more tired and envious of the innocents of his childhood and the days when he didn't have to feel fear.<p>

He pushed the covers back and grabbed the first pair of clean pants within arm's reach. Over the past few years he had gradually lost interest in what clothes he wore. So long as they matched enough that he didn't look like a slob and they covered the numerous unpleasant bruises on his body he no longer cared what he wore. His fashion sense and his personality had slowly shifted from sophisticated straight A honor student to an educated punk. After his mother remarried she cared less and less for her own son which only encouraged the Brits lack of care for himself.

After sliding in to the snug fitting jeans Arthur glared down at the torn holes in the knees of the dark colored fabric. The dark denim silhouetted the still red and tender bruises on his knees from the fight the night before. He'd come home late as usual in an attempted to avoid Scot, but had been unfortunate enough to encounter him in the foyer. The older man seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on the young Brit. Arthur couldn't fathom why his older step brother would do such a thing or rather he didn't want to think about it.

The blond teen glanced over at the laundry hamper in the corner of his bed room, it was heaped full of clothes. Arthur had hardly been home at all in quite some time so he hadn't had the time nor the desire to do the laundry. He gave up looking for a different pair of pants and found a plain tee and a rather stylish sweater to wear and then put on a pair of boots that had unnecessarily long laces that he wound around his ankles before tying them.

Grabbing his coat off the back of his desk chair and his back pack from the floor he quietly crept down the stairs, hoping to avoid the other man. The sound of someone in the kitchen made him jump. Arthur was about to sneak past the door without being seen, but the smell of eggs and bacon made him stop. He peered around the door casing to see a tall broad shouldered red had at the stove with a spatula in his hand and humming some tune or another.

It had been almost a year since he'd eaten a home cooked meal. Over a year ago his mother and step-father had left on a research trip for his father's next book. They'd left without knowing when they intended to come home. The last year Arthur had spent with his foul tempered older step brother Scott

Scot, the man at the stove turned around to look at him. Arthur jumped. "Food?" He asked pointing at the pan on the stove. Arthur stood completely still in the door way, not responding. "It's not poisoned, promise," He told the younger boy turning back to the counter to scoop the eggs and bacon out on to a plate. Arthur wanted to believe that the food was poisoned and flee before he was forced to eat it, but the food smelled so good, he found it hard to believe. Scot held out the plate to Arthur. He looked up at his elder brother and back at the food. The boy hesitantly reached for it, forcing himself to not shake. He took the plate half expecting to have the hot food thrown in to his face.

He sat down at the table and glanced warily over his shoulder at Scot who had turned back to the stove to prepare his own meal. Arthur scooped a small bite on to his fork and tasted it, though he was still unsure if it was a good idea or not. He was surprised that the food was edible and not just edible, but delicious. It tasted like the food his mother use to make. He scarfed down most of the food and then Scot said something that made him freeze. "So little Artie how does rat poison taste?"

Arthur almost choked and spit the food out. He glared the most menacing look he could muster at the red head to hide his panic. He wouldn't put it past Scot to put poison in his food as much as the older man seemed to want rid of him. Arthur was cursing himself for having been stupid enough to eat his step brother's cooking. The smaller boy rose from his seat at the table. He was so frightened and furious that he was shaking. Scot laughed with a smug grin on his face, which made Arthur even angrier. The small blond hurled the plate and its remaining contents in to the sink. He herd the plate shatter and Scot yell something, but he didn't take the time to register either before darting out the front door.

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><p>The walk to school had been brief, but Arthur wished it had been longer. The school doors were still locked. Arthur jerked on the door, but it wouldn't open. He faced away from the door and stared out at the school grounds. There wasn't a soul around and the sun was not yet up. The teen let his mind wander; He daydreamed about a world that he could be happy in. His world was full of fairies and magic. He felt that it was childish, but it gave him an escape from the torment in his everyday life.<p>

It had become harder to escape the things that had happened over the last year. It seemed that his dream world wasn't as safe as it had been when he was a kid. Perhaps it had faded because of the constant reminders Arthur was given that fairies and magic were not real and that he should just grow up. His world may have also faded because the torment had become more physical than it had been in the past.

An enthusiastic voice greeting him drew him out of his dream world. Arthur looked up to be met with blue eyes that were a little too close to his personal space a little too quickly. These stunning sapphire eye were accompany by a set of hands that snaked their way around his thin body.

"Good morning sleepy head. Are you still not awake?" The blue eyed teen asked. Arthur blinked and after a moment he laughed, a forced fake laugh that was real enough to trick the other teen.

"I suppose not, Alfred." Arthur replied letting the taller boy pull him closer. If it had been any one else that had come to close to the Brit he might have floored them, especially after Scot's stunt earlier. Alfred, though he was often annoying he was the only person Arthur felt safe around. He had been the first friend Arthur had made after being forcibly relocated to the states when he was still in Primary School.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked. "You have another bruise on your face... The stairs again?" The last part sounded critical making Arthur tense. Alfred felt him tense and his face became more worried. "Artie?" The smaller blond buried his face in the crook of the taller American's neck so he didn't have to look at him.

"I'm fine I just wasn't paying attention and fell." His reply came out so honest sounding that it scared him. Arthur had grown so use to lying that he almost could believe his own lies. It seemed that Alfred believed him and let the subject drop.

The rest of the school day Arthur spent trying to avoid Alfred without making it obvious he was doing it. He had managed to do well for most of the day, but it was trying. Some part of him questioned why he didn't just tell Alfred everything, but the other part knew why.

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><p>When he arrived home it was long past dark and the lights in the house were all out. Arthur hoped that this meant that Scot was still out somewhere or had already gone to sleep. The small teen carefully opened the door with little sound and crept into the house.<p>

"Don't you think staying out late would worry your dear big brother?" Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. Scot was standing in the unlit doorway to the living room holding a half empty bottle of whiskey. By the slurred sarcasm in his speech Arthur could tell the older man was already drunk. The Brit took a few steps back until he met the wall.

"Sorry," The boy mumble, feeling his body go cold. He was wary of what he said when Scot was drunk because it usually didn't end well.

"What?" Scot asked his tone implying that he had heard him he just wanted to hear it again.

"I'm sorry," Arthur repeated more clearly.

"Are ya' now?" The Scotchman asked taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

"Yes, it won't happen again," Arthur answered, regretting the words the moment they slipped from his mouth.

"Ya said that before and here ya are all over again. I think ya need a lesson," the red head told him taking a step forward. Arthur knew what was coming next and his instinct took hold. He bolted for the door, but was pulled back and thrown to the floor by the back of his jacket. He didn't have time to think nor move before a heavy booted foot slammed down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. The small teen frantically gasped for air only to have it knocked from his lungs again. Scot straddled over him and yanked Arthur up by this shirt caller. "Have ya learned your lesson yet?" he demanded.

"This isn't how you teach someone," Arthur retorted through gritted teeth. Why did he have to be so stubborn it never did him good in situations like this? Scot punched Arthur in the ribs with his free hand, earning a scream from the Brit. Arthur could faintly make out the sickening smile on his step-brothers face in the dim light. He was enjoying this.

Once Scot was satisfied he left Arthur lying there on the floor as if it were normal. For them it was normal. Arthur waited until he knew Scot wasn't coming back to slowly stand up and limp his way up the stairs to his room. He was so tired and sore that he didn't bother tending to his wounds. He flopped down on the bed, curled into a ball and fell into a restless sleep.

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><p><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Thank you for reading this I'd love it if you would give me a review.


	2. Bitter

** Authors notes: **Thank you all for waiting so long for the next chapter. I'm sorry it's so late and isn't as long as I'd hoped it to be. If you go read my fic **Red braslets** parts of this may make more sens, but its not necessary.

** I don't own Hetalia it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. **

**Bitter**

**Chapter two**

**Bitter**

The telephone rang in the hall way down stairs. Arthur let it ring a few times to determine if his brother was home to answer it. When no one answer the phone he assumed the older man was gone and rolled of his bed ware he had been at while reading and trotted down the stairs. He snagged the red, corded phone off the hook on the wall mid ring and pressed it to his ear.

"Ello,"

"Ello, what time is it there?" The caller asked.

"Half past eight," Arthur replied confused and not sure at first who the caller was.

"Oh, delightful. I was worried it would be rather late." It finally dawned on Arthur who the woman was, Angeline, his mother. He hadn't heard her voice in almost a year. At first when she and Arthur's step-father had left she would call several times a week, but after some time her calls stopped all together. Scot continued to get E-mails from her on a regular basis, but she hadn't bothered to contact Arthur at all. "Is Scot there?" Angeline asked.

Arthur bit his lower lip. His own mother, who had not contacted him in just short of a year didn't even bother to ask how he had been before asking for his step-brother. It only enforced how the young Brit felt about how his mother thought of him. "He's not home," Arthur told her, trying to sound sincere.

"Oh that's a pity," She remarked

"No it's a blessing," Arthur mumbled under his breath.

"How have you been?" Angeline asked, false motherly affection oozing from every word, the question, only a formality. Arthur said nothing for some time. He hadn't been asked how he was in a long time and he had to think of an answer. He could tell her that his life had been absolutely dreadful in the last year or he could lie and say everything was just peachy. He decided to lie though it didn't come out quite the way had planned, his mother wasn't likely to believe him if he told her the truth.

"Things have been well, all but the whole not having parents around and having a sadist for a step-brother bit," The last part wasn't the smartest thing to say there was no way there conversation was going to end well now.

"Arthur Kirkland! Don't call your brother a sadist," She snapped. Arthur waited tensely for the next bit. "Your father and I would be home if it weren't for his work and you'll find this kinds of things will happen in your life to if only you would grow up."

"I think I'm growing up just fine and don't call _him_ my father because he's _not. _My _real_ dad is dead," Arthur knew he should have shut his mouth long before saying that.

"And whose fault do you think that is!" Angeline's voice was shrill and bitter. Rather than replying to her Arthur slammed the phone back on the hook and stormed off back up the stairs.

Arthur buried his thoughts in a fantasy novel until sometime after eleven when he went to bed. Not long after he had fallen asleep a loud noise woke him up again. The teen opened his eyes to find the room had another occupant. Scot stood over his bed with a sadistic grin across his face.

"Guess what I heard?" Scot asked in a sing song voice.

"What?" Arthur asked drowsily. The Brit eyed the other man up and down; surprised to see he wasn't drunk.

"Yer precious lil mumzy's coming home at the end of the month," Scot replied. That had apparently been what the phone call earlier was about.

"Ah," Was Arthur's only reaction before rolling back over too tired to even be frightened of Scot, which was a mistake.

"Ya know what that means?" Scot demanded grabbing hold of Arthur's messy blond hair and pulling him off the bed to the floor. The Brit yelped and squirmed trying to free himself from the Scotchman's hold. "That means I don't get to beat the fuck out of you when I feel like it as often." he answered his own question.

Arthur's eyes went wide as the reason for Scot waking him up in the middle of the night to tell him this came to him. The small teen squirmed and thrashed more desperately in an attempted to free himself before things got worse, but it was futile. Scot let go of his hair only to pick up what had made the loud sound before.

Scot held up a peace of a thick, cylindrical wooden dowel. Arthur froze, his eyes the only thing moving as he watched the dowel's path downward. Arthur screamed as the wood struck his ribs. Several times the shafted hit his body in numerous places. Scot favored hitting the boy across the ribs to witch he did so many times Arthur could no longer count.

It was hard for Arthur to even think any more. He had begun to shut off his senses to escape the pain. Scot rose the dowel up and brought it down with more force than the previous strikes. The wood snapped in to splinters. The pain was so strong that Arthur couldn't suppress his scream. He was uncertain as to whether the cracking sound was all just the dowel or possibly some of his ribs. Scot left him alone after that. He curled in to a ball on the floor and fell back asleep.

Arthur didn't move from the spot on the floor ware Scot had left him the night before until he woke up in the late afternoon. What woke him was the sound of a car horn being blasted out in the front drive way. Arthur bolted upright a bit too fast for his sore ribs and let out a loud shriek in pain. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and suppressed the pain in his ribs, and then he stood up carefully and looked out the window to see who was out there.

There was a black car parked in the drive way. Arthur stared at the automobile for a moment before remembering the plans that had been made the day before with Alfred. They were going to go to the mall with Alfred's twin brother Mathew and Matthew's boyfriend Gilbert. The Car in the drive belonged to Gilbert who was his ride to the mall.

Arthur hastily located his cell phone and sent Gil a message telling him he had just woke up and needed a minute before he would be ready. Gilbert's reply was "Fine, hurry up," The reflection that met the Brit in the mirror was far worse than he had hoped. He took a quick shower to get the dried blood off. Once out of the shower his hands worked quickly to bandage all his wounds and his mind ran fast in search of a valid excuse for all the cuts and bruises. There was little hope in hiding the gash on his forehead and he doubted that painkillers would be enough to stop the pain in his ribs.

Arthur slid in to the back seat of Gilbert's car slamming the door shut behind him. Matthew was sitting in the passenger's seat browsing through the songs on the iPod hooked up to the car's audio system.

The song that Matthew began to play was _Concrete Ang__el _by Martina McBride. Arthur quietly listened to the lyrics for a moment feeling the bile rise in his stomach.

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed__  
><em>_Nobody knows what she's holding back__  
><em>_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday__  
><em>_She hides the bru__ises with the linen and lace_

"Can you please turn that off?" he finally asked diverting his gaze from Gilbert watching him in the review mirror.

"Why?" Matthew asked looking at the blond in the back seat and then to Gil in the front seat who was still watching Arthur in the review mirror.

"Just do it, Birdie," Gil told him.

"But I want to listen to the song," Mattie wined. Gil pulled the iPod out of the boys hand and turned it off. Matthew looked at him a little hurt and confused. Gil glanced back at Arthur in the mirror again as he pulled out of the driveway.

"You okay Art?" The German asked.

"Oh, just a few potentially broken ribs and a plethora of cuts and bruises, other than that I'm just fine and dandy," The way he drawled out his accent made the sarcasm evident.

"Scot again?"

"As per usual," Arthur replied. Mattie glanced back and forth between them waiting for an explanation to which he never got. The car ride remained silent, Mattie was too shy to pry any further and it was obvious nether of the two boys were going to explain.

They met Alfred outside the video game shop in the mall that he worked part time at. Alfred greeted Arthur with a tight hug. The Brit had to do everything in his power not to scream. He pried himself free of the overly excitable American and proceeded to scold him for hugging him without warning.

The four teens wondered around the different shops in the mall for quite a while without a real goal in mind. The unwelcome strain was starting to make Arthur's already sore ribs hurt worse. He found himself gripping his chest, hoping the pain would subside, but it only worsened as the day went on.

By the time the group had decided to stop at the food court for a meal Arthur felt lightheaded and the thought of food made his stomach turn. After every one was seated Arthur excused himself from the table to avoid any more of the American's prying questions about why he wasn't eating and why he had a bandage on his forehead. He made his way to the bath room to douse water on his face and gather his composure before he could return to the table.

As soon as Arthur was out of earshot Alfred turned to the other two with a concerned expression.

"Is it me or has Arthur been acting weirder and weirder lately?" he asked looking between them.

"It's just you Alfred," Gil replied not even bothering to look up from his fries.

"I agree with you Al," Mattie told him looking in the direction Arthur had gone. "He doesn't act like he did when we were younger. He's gotten quieter and colder,"

"I just thought he was always an ass," The German interjected.

"It worries me," Matt said fiddling with the red silicon band around his left wrist. Gil watched him without a word for a bit before speaking.

"Look Alfred, Arthur's just had a hard time at home since his parents left. Him and his brother don't get along well so they fight a lot," Gil wasn't sure if covering for Arthur was a good idea, he honestly wanted the Brit to confess everything and get the hell away from Scot, but he never would.

It had been about six months since Arthur had confided in Gilbert. The young Brit had confessed to everything that had been going on. He had even expressed his fear of telling his mother and step-father what had been happening. It appeared that the boy's mother played favorites towards her step-son. He was also afraid to tell Alfred for reasons Gilbert had yet to grasp. After his confession, Gilbert's house had become his safe haven when things would get out of hand, which had been happening at and alarmingly frequent rate as of late.

Alfred opened his mouth to respond to what the other teen had said, but was cut off by Arthur who had returned. "What goes on in my life is not a diner table discussion now if you don't mind please shut up," Alfred looked up at him now more worried than before.

"Are you alright?" The American asked.

"I'm fine Alfred," Arthur answered flatly, joining them at the table again. Alfred didn't push the subject further, but though out the day he continued to notice how ill Arthur looked.

Gilbert had offered to give Arthur a ride home at the end of their mall outing, but it had really been an excuse to get Arthur in a situation where he could convince him to go get his ribs checked out. Lucky his ribs weren't broken, but there was no way that Gil was going to let Arthur go home to have his ribs actually broken or worse.

At the hospital when the two of them were away from Matthew, Gil had gotten Arthur to tell him exactly what had taken place the night before, including the fact that his parents would be home at the end of the month. Gilbert then made it his goal to convince the Brit to stay with him till his folks came back. Arthur wouldn't agree to stay till then, but he did agree to stay the rest of the weekend.

**Authors notes: **

My choice of name for Arthur mother has little surfactants other than the fact that Angeline means Angle. Thought that's not really important.

The significances of the rad silicon bracelet Matthew is waring is expanded in _Red bracelets. -_You don't have to read it.-

I will put a link to the song _Concrete Angel _by Martina McBride on my profile. I felt this song would work really well as a trigger for Arthur because its about a child that is abused.

Thank you so much for reading this. I would really love it if you would review it motivates me to write more.


	3. Frightened

Bitter

Chapter three

The Brit tugged at the steel wire that had been threaded unnecessarily though the door to the chicken-wire rabbit cage. His small white and brown fluffy rabbits were lying completely still in the cage, not gathering by the door to be fed or let out in to the yard to eat grass as they normally did. Arthur tugged at the last inch of wire until it snapped free causing him to nearly fall backwards. As soon as the teen had properly righted himself he reached into the cage to grab one of the rabbets.

As soon as his hands touched the small animal Arthur jerked his hand away. The creature was as cold as ice. The tears welled in his jade eyes. As he had feared his beloved pet rabbits were all dead. He pulled the water bottle lose from the side of the cage. Giving the nozzle a sniff he jerked it away immediately, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The bottle had been laced with antifreeze. The tears started to fall from his eyes.

Arthur pulled his favorite of the rabbits from the cage and cradled it in his arms. He began to cry so hard that he could no longer stand. He fell to his knees, curling over still clinging to the rabbit like his life depended on it.

Some part of him felt like his life did depend on those little rabbits. The two oldest of them he had brought with him from Briton. They had been his late father's beloved pets and Arthur had learned to love them as much as his father. The Brit found so many fond memories when he cared for the rabbits. They had given him comfort when he didn't know where else to find it.

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs as he stroked the rabbit's soft fur. He had regretted spending the weekend away from home. He didn't blame Gilbert for insisting he stayed. The German had only been trying to help him. He blamed himself for not making sure animals were safe. He hadn't thought Scot was cruel enough to kill the animals.

"I'll warn ya one last time," Came an unsettling voice from behind him, causing the boy to flinch. "Watch who ya talk to." A forceful kick struck Arthur's back knocking him forward; he tumbled over and landed on his back. Scot stood over him his feet on either side of the smaller boy. Arthur watched him through tear blurred eyes, the fear crept over him like icy water.

Scot yanked the rabbit from The Brit's hands and held it up in the air.

"If ya say one word to anybody about are lil inter actions here I'll do them the same as these here rabbits. Ya hear me?" Scot demanded shaking the limp creature in Arthur's face. "Ya hear me?" he demanded again this time throwing the dead animal to the ground beside the teens head. It struck the ground with a sickening crunch. Arthur felt his stomach turn, he felt sick. Never in his life had he wished so badly for this to end, but no mother what he couldn't think of a way out. If he told anyone Scot would hurt them or hurt him. All he could do is pray it would stop once is parents got home.

**Authors notes:**

**I apologize for this, but this story is on hiatus until further notice.**

I want to finish this story because I know that there are a lot of people reading it and I'm grateful for every one of you.

I have lost the motivation to write this story. I find it hard to convey the characters emotions and I find that the plot is not eventful enough. I have difficulty relating to Arthur's situation.

And amongst the things you likely view as excuses, I have been going through some hard times recently and my mental health is not were it should be and working on a story with such a dark theme has only assisted in dragging my mood in to the pits of hell.

And with all that, I'm going to go work on something happier alright?

до свидания!


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